Vive la Révolution!

If the revolution is to succeed, she must die

There she sits, in a prison of her own making. An old, decrepit Stone room, her once beautiful long hair, cut short and grey. Her beautiful silk gowns now gone, replaced with a simple white dress, far from the palaces she once lived in. Palaces filled with such wonderful music, beautiful guests, amazing art and food only fit for kings. Now, her “palace” is filled with the echos of screams and cheers from the outside, shouts of “Vive la revolution!” Now, her guests are rats who scurry around for whatever food they can find. Now, the only art she has, is a portrait of her family, the last thing she holds so dear. What happened to her? How could she of all people be here? She was the Queen, her son heir to his father's throne. She, herself, was the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor. Her name was known throughout the civilized world. She was known for her beautiful and fashion. She was the Queen of the most powerful empire of Europe. How? Why? What happened?

Well, in short, while she and her husband partied with their nobles, throwing lavish events, the people suffered. While they danced and ate the finest of foods and drank the finest of wines, the people starved. People of every common class, men, women, children, all suffered and paid the bill of their king's parties. Eventually, the people had had enough. With a burning passion of revenge and for change, they rose up. All of Paris erupted in riots- no... Revolution. The people, having suffered long under their king's boot stormed the Bastille and razed it to the ground, brick by brick. The people then turned their anger towards their king. While they starved and lived in squalor, their king lived just 30 km away, in a palace built by his grandfather to be away from his subjects. Well now, for the king to understand their pain, they were going to bring him and his family back to where they belong. However, the king did not approve of being at the will of mere peasants. So, he and his family were to leave Paris, to leave France, and escape across the border where the armies of the Holy Roman Emperor waited. But it was not to be. Just 50 km from their destination, the king and his family were caught and sent back to Paris

The people were furious at their king's betrayal. He was a traitor to them and the revolution. If they were to survive, if the revolution was to succeed, he must die. On January 21, 1793, King Louis XVI was executed for his crimes against the people and the revolution. Now, 9 months later, the people's anger turned to their former Queen. All of this was her fault. She was the reason they starved. She, as the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor was the reason that the Empire waged war against them and the revolution. At that moment, they knew what they must do.

Now, it was her turn. She pleaded with her captors to let her and her children free. What value have they with her and her children? They got what they wanted, the king is dead, and the country theirs. But they would not listen. They knew better. If the people were to survive, if the revolution was to succeed, she must die and her children wiped clean of their sin.

Now, she sits in an old, decrepit stone room, clutching the portrait of her family close to her chest. This was her doing. She was in a prison of her own making. Now, the only thing she wishes is to see her children again, to have them in her arms again. As a single tear falls from her eye, the door to her room is opened. She quickly turns her head towards the door and lays eyes upon and soldier in a blue uniform with short length of rope. He nods at her...

It's time

She wipes her face with her sleeve and places the small portrait of her family down on the table and stands up. The soldier enters her room and turns her around, tying her wrists together. The soldier then grabs her arm and guides her towards the door and out of the room to her fate. They walk down the stone hall, eventually stepping outside. She expects a covered carriage, like the one her husband was carried in. But alas, this was not be. She was to be driven to her fate in a simple open cart like any other common criminal. She nearly falls as the realization hits her, but the soldier next to her holds her up. Despite her protest, the soldier walks her to the open cart. She is then placed inside it and the driver is told go. With the crack of a whip, the mule obeys and walks forward into the awaiting crowd. Soldiers, in the same blue uniform, line up the path, giving way for the cart to drive on. All the while, the crowd shouts insults at their former Queen. But their words do not phase her, she holds her head up high and looks straight ahead, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Eventually, the wooden cart comes to a stop. A different soldier walks up the cart and helps the former Queen out and onto solid ground. He then takes her by the arm and guides her to the scaffolding. Once they reach the steps, the soldier let's go of her arm. She pauses for a moment, then takes her first step. As she walks up, the crowd begin shouting, a mix of insults and patriotic slogans. Once atop the scaffolding, the executioner guides her towards the guillotine. In doing so, the former Queen accidentally steps on his shoe.

“Pardonnez-moi, monsieur. Je ne l'ai pas fait exprès”
(Pardon me, sir, I did not do it on purpose)

The executioner then pushes her up against the bascule of the guillotine, and tying her down to it. She is then laid down and pushed forward towards the lunette. Once in position, her head is locked in place. The executioner then walks around towards the front of the guillotine and places his hand on the little lever. He pulls out his pocket watch and takes note of the time; 12:15 pm, October 16, 1793. He then pulls the lever which sends the blade crashing down, thus ending the life of Marie Antoinette, the last Queen of France.

The End